The scene opens with a black screen. Seemingly in the distance, we hear the final words of Anthony Royal's disappointing Imperial Insanity night.
Tiffany Styles: Ladies and gentlemen, Anthony Royal has been eliminated!
The camera cuts and we see Anthony Royal walk through the curtain backstage immediately after being tossed from the battle royal. His face is utterly expressionless as he walks seemingly with no direction. Absent mindedly, he wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his hand before flicking it aside. He reaches a narrow corridor where he crosses paths with a stagehand of some sort. There simply isn't enough room for the two of them to pass cleanly and they bump shoulders, sending a stack of papers the man was holding flying every which way. This contact doesn't even seem to register with Royal as he continues his zombie-like walk. The stage hand looks up with anger in his eyes, but when he sees the disturbing expression (or, more accurately, LACK of expression) on Royal's face, he swallows whatever angry words were about to come out and simply goes about picking up his papers. Royal's seemingly destination-less walk continues until he comes to a small, dimly lit room. There is a stack of metal folding chairs leaning against the concrete wall of the room. Royal grabs a chair, sets it up in the center of the room and sits down. He slowly removes the elbow pad from each arm and throws them down in disgust. He then leans forward in the chair, places his face in the palms of his hands and simply sits that way, silently. He sits and sits and sits, making no sound. Finally, he lets out an ear piercing, gutteral scream.
Royal: NO! NO! NO!
Royal looks up and stares blankly into space. He then springs to his feet, grabs the chair, and begins repeatedly smashing it into the wall.
Royal: THIS WASN'T HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO!
As Royal's fit continues, a second stage hand comes around the corner and enters the room to see what is causing the commotion.
Stagehand: Umm, is everything alright in here sir? We still have a show going on, I'm going to have to ask you take this somewhere else.
Royal's head whips around like a predator spotting a helpless, little mammal. He springs to life and grabs the man by the collar of his shirt, pinning him hard against the wall.
Royal: Nothing's alright you son of a bitch! This was supposed to be my night! And I....I....
Just as quickly as Royal lunged for and grabbed the man, he releases him. The man gulps, realizes it's in his best interest to allow Royal to throw his fit in peace, and quickly scurries away. Meanwhile, Royal drops to his knees and places his hands on each side of his head. He speaks in a low, whisper like voice.
Royal: Failed. I failed.
Royal gets back to his feet
Royal: I failed, okay?
Royal looks upward toward the ceiling.
Royal: IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?!
It is unclear who Royal is talking to as the disturbing scene continues. Royal leans with his face against the wall and his hands against his head. He stands like that for an extended period of time, silent, aside from his heavy, uneven breathing. Suddenly, an uneasy smiles creeps across his face. He then begins speaking, apparently to the unknown entity.
Royal: Yes. Yes. It's time...
With that, Royal again looks upward, his eerie smile growing larger as we fade away. The scene then reopens in an unknown location. All that can be seen is Anthony Royal, back to the camera, and his reflection in a mirror. Royal is staring at himself, with cold dead eyes. After a few moments of eerie silence, he begins to quietly speak.
Royal: Imperial Insanity was supposed to be the defining moment of my career. No, of my life. I was supposed to become the Old Glory Champion. The FIRST EVER Old Glory Champion. I was supposed to win the Imperial Insanity Battle Royal and become number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship. Instead, I walked out of Imperial Insanity just as empty handed as I walked in. The Old Glory Championship Finals? Pinned 1,2,3 in the middle of the ring like a common loser. Imperial Insanity Battle Royal? Tossed over the top rope like one would toss a bag of garbage into a dumpster.
Royal shakes his head in utter disgust.
Royal: I know you've all seen this movie before. This is the part where I explain my failures away, right? I was screwed over. The sun was in my eyes. Vin Halstead got lucky. Blah, blah, blah. But I'm not going to do that. There is only one person to blame for my failures. And I've had to spend the last week staring at him with disdain.
Royal glares at himself with his empty eyes.
Royal: Me. Anthony Royal. The only one who can be held responsible for the pathetic display that was Imperial Insanity, is me. I failed. I failed because of my own weakness. When the chips were down, I was too weak to do what needed to be done. To go to the levels of depravity required to be successful in this business. But that weakness is about to cease. You see, I know something that no one else does. A reckoning is coming. It has been spoken to me. And I am it's bringer.
Royal appears to be in a daze as he speaks.
Royal: And it all begins at Evolution. For some reason, my failure has seemingly been rewarded with a Television Championship Match. Like a stupid, little puppy who doesn't know any better, I've been tossed a bone to keep me occupied. To keep me happy, because I'm such a good, little hand. And I may have came up short at Imperial Insanity, but gosh darn it, I gave it my best effort, and that deserves a reward. At least, that seems to be the flawed logic applied here. And to be frank, the logic doesn't concern, nor interest me. And to be even more frank, the Television Championship doesn't concern, nor interest me.
Royal lets out a small laugh, showing a tiny bit of emotion for the first time.
Royal: To be able to call myself Television Champion has no meaning whatsoever to me. It's not even on my radar. For me, Evolution is simply about one thing. Sending my message loud and clear. And that brings me to Adrian King.
The smile is gone and Royal's face is back to being utterly expressionless.
Royal: Adrian, I fear I must offer you an apology. I'm sorry for what is going to happen to you at Evolution. I really and truly am. You've done nothing wrong. You've done nothing to deserve it whatsoever. And yet, it is still coming. Oh yes Adrian, it is still coming, and it's so unfortunate. It's so unfortunate because you've finally seem to have made a little something of your life. Despite my earlier misgivings, becoming Television Champion, for you, is an accomplishment. I mean, only two men can claim to have accomplished such a feat, and you are one of them. I hesitate to say that that daddy of yours may be proud of you, but perhaps looking at you no longer fills him with a bitter disgust, or a sense of regret for even bringing you into this world in the first place. And perhaps that's something for you to be proud of. Unfortunately, at Evolution, that all comes crashing down. And with it comes your whole world. I am going to take everything from you, Adrian. Not because I want to. Because I have to. You see, Adrian, I have been touched by a higher power, and I have been given a mission. A mission to cleanse the world of the filth that stains it. Whether or not you're part of that filth matters not Adrian, because your purpose has now become nothing more than being my means of delivering a message. And that message is the cleansing has begun.
Royal stares his far away stare
Royal: We both know I can beat you, Adrian. It's already happened. I won't lie and say it was easy, but it certainly was done. I pinned you en route to the Old Glory Championship Tournament Finals. I know you remember that. So, obviously, I could simply walk into Evolution, beat you...again, pin you...again and take your Television Championship for myself. But that won't be enough. I have to show the world that the reckoning has arrived. And that means I have to destroy you Adrian. I have to break you. I have to spill your blood. I have to decimate you so utterly, so completely, that the rest of the roster will go dry at the mouth and shake with fear at the mere thought of having to step into the ring with me. And I will do all those things, Adrian. I am going to send you back to your disapproving father a changed man. A broken man. A shell of a man. And I will take your Television Championship. And I don't even want it. But, I must admit, it will give me great pleasure to think of you seeing me with what used to be yours resting comfortably on my shoulder and knowing that I am the man who took it all from you. It will give me great pleasure knowing that the inevitable downward spiral that is coming your way was all caused by me. Adrian King, you have the distinct honor of being the first victim of the new regime that is coming. There will be many others who will join you soon, but it all begins with you. Change is coming. The sins that plague this company will be eradicated. That is my purpose. The old Anthony Royal is dead. The yachts, the suits, the excessive gluttony, the unbridled pride. It is all buried here and now. I have a new guiding light. I have a new mission. And a wake of horror and destruction will be left in my path, if that's what it takes. And anyone who makes the tragic mistake of standing in my way, will be simply broken.
Royal suddenly punches the mirror with all of his force, shattering it. Royal glares into what remains of the mirror, his shattered reflection giving him a sinister look. He then turns towards the camera. He raises the hand he used to punch the camera and holds it in front of it's face. Blood slowly begins dripping down it's sides. Royal stares at it with dreamy eyes before turning his attention back to the camera.
Royal: And it all starts with you, Adrian. Whether you choose to embrace your place in history, or choose to admirably attempt to stand against me, it makes no difference. Either way, you will fall. And there's a damn good chance you don't get back up. Just know, it's nothing personal. I am simply doing what I've been told needs to be done. You better bring your best, Adrian.
Royal again clenches his bloody hand into a fist. He stares at it and smiles.
Royal: You're going to need it.
With that, Royal turns back around and again glares into the broken mirror as the scene fades to black